


The Bounty Part 2 - Hawaii

by gracediamondsfear



Series: The Bounty Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, D/s, F/M, Harry Potter AU, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Revenge, Vaginal Sex, bounty hunter Hermione, maybe other smutty things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracediamondsfear/pseuds/gracediamondsfear
Summary: By request...a continuation of The Bounty, the first part of this series.When last we left Hermione she was handcuffed to a bed in Monte Carlo after a night with Draco. But wait, he left her a note:“Better luck next time Granger! I’ll be waiting. I hear Hawaii is nice this time of year.”He’d drawn a ridiculous little heart and the initials DM at the bottom. She swore and pulled at the unbreakable cuffs, screaming his name in a much different way than she had a few hours before, but when she looked up at the ceiling in defeat, all she could do was smile.





	1. Wailea

He was the one who found her in Hawaii. Of course the game was hardly fair anymore; not when she’d freely given him so much fuel for the fight. Not when he knew they weren’t using magic, not when he knew she’d be coming for him. And she really shouldn’t have put on that lipstick, shouldn’t have let him see how much she wanted Garrison. When he first got a look at the pasty-faced tosser he knew the whole thing was sorted. There was no way she’d pick that miserable twat over him.

Not that he wanted her for any length of time anyway. It was just a game really, like the fox hunts his father used to go on. Draco had been competitive from birth and she’d gotten one up on him so he needed to settle the score. He wasn’t going to profess his undying love or anything. It was just that he needed to have her one more time; he needed to touch her, to see her, to hold her while her body shook. He needed to be with her when he could have the upper hand. 

Part of him had felt guilty leaving her all bound up and naked in the hotel in Monte Carlo. Another part of him was angry that Garrison had seen her like that and the last part of him smiled every time he thought about it, imagining how angry she must have been, how hot she must have looked struggling against the cuffs, her body tangled up in the wrinkled hotel sheets, sweaty and stained from their sex.

There was a small wizarding community on Maui, but they were mostly living inland near Haleakala and Draco had no desire to mingle with them. It was an extremely small colony and it would be the first place the Order would check anyway, following protocol, gathering intel; and a pale, British, white haired man would definitely be front of mind had he showed his face. So instead, he bought a house near Paia close to the beach; a rustic, modest cottage with a view of the mountains and the water, floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the waving palms, a hammock on the lanai, swinging in the breeze. It was exactly the kind of place she wouldn’t expect to find him in. Which is why he found _her_ at the Four Seasons Wailea; so ostentatious, and exactly the kind of place she assumed he loved. Of course she didn’t really know him as well as she supposed. Not anymore.

He was surprised, and maybe a little insulted that she didn’t follow him there right away. If he knew anything about Granger, it was that she didn’t give up on a hunt. So when she went back to London with Garrison, stayed there for nearly three weeks – Draco was almost…hurt. Wasn’t he an important enough score? Didn’t she need the information about the Manor that she swore they’d all tear out of him? He’d used a disillusionment charm to observe her in her element, coming and going from the Order meetings and her job at the Ministry. Most of the time she was alone, eating lunch with her nose in a book, grabbing a pint after work by herself, strumming her fingers on the bar, staring off at nothing. It was everything in him not to approach her, to spring up behind her and grab her hips; but he was still a wanted man apparently; the Prophet still had him on the Most Wanted list - although he’d dropped to fifteenth place.

During her last week in London he watched her go out for dinner and drinks with Garrison: a perfect, boring gentleman who was far too old and tired for her fire. He offered up a toast to her “brilliant company and even sharper mind” that nearly made Draco laugh out loud from his position two tables away. After their quiet, boring, well mannered date he’d kissed her on the cheek when he put her in a cab at the end of the night, not even trying to go home with her. What in the world did she see in him? What did she think he could offer her?

He'd gone back to the island to wait, knowing they'd be poking around before long. Watching from afar he knew they went to the big island first, burning resources and time in Wizard Hilo, a place he'd never set foot in, but before long, the Order was in Maui. They'd sent a team of five aurors to Hawaii – still not using magic to avoid detection, shuttling around in cabs, calling each other on ancient looking cellphones, Granger, Garrison, some older man, someone Draco didn’t recognize but who Granger called Fordham and two young cadets that he supposed were just out of school.

On her fourth night in Wailea he watched Granger and Garrison eat dinner at a beachfront restaurant. Everything about her body language indicated her ulterior motives. Draco could barely sit still watching her fingers stroking the stem of her wine glass, her tongue flicking out over her lip after she drank. She was wearing a white dress that showed off the peachy glow of her skin, the freckles dotted across her nose and cheeks. It was low cut and she would occasionally lean in close to Garrison, giving him a perfect view of her tits and yet the man remained completely unaffected, so much so that Draco wondered if perhaps Granger was chasing a man who wasn’t even playing for her team. While he watched her talk and laugh, lick a bit of chocolate off of her thumb, Draco regretted not kissing her more when they were together. They’d both been so adrenaline driven, so blinded by lust that all they wanted was to get off, rutting like animals, but he’d loved kissing her, tasting her tongue over his. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Sensing that they were finishing up their meal, Draco left the restaurant ahead of them and easily let himself into her hotel suite, sitting quietly in the darkest corner of the sitting room, away from the blue white glow of the moonlight that poured through the window, giving himself an unobstructed view of the front door and the entrance to her bedroom. The back of his neck prickled with sweat as he thought about her stripping down and slipping into bed, but still he was ready for any possibility. If she discovered him there and kicked up a fuss or invited the stiff in for a drink he would simply disapparate home and try again the next day. There was simply no way he could lose this time, not when he had magic on his side. 

****

Once Garrison had made it painfully clear that they were on a business dinner, or as he put it, a “strategic discussion”, Hermione had become distracted, her eyes and her mind wandering while he laid out the plans to locate Draco within the week. Her gaze was drawn to a dark haired man in a black suit eating alone on the other side of the dining room, glancing at her every now and then. She could have sworn that she knew him from somewhere, but before she could get his attention he was gone. 

“The information you…received…” Garrison said, clearing his throat as his cheeks flushed, “from Malfoy is sound. People have seen him here...on Maui, and our contacts in the community are definitely keeping an eye out. We’ll head out to Haleakala tomorrow and question the residents.”

“He won’t go there,” she said, resting her chin in her hand, her mind flashing back to seeing Draco in the booth at The Succubus, dressed all in black, surveying the crowd like a hungry lion. “He needs somewhere more…”

“Seedy?” He offered, raising an eyebrow.

“Populated. He likes attention…of a certain sort.”

The search for Malfoy had become more difficult since their “rendezvous” in Monte Carlo. Only for Hermione really, since every time his name came up she found herself thinking back to that hotel room, his legs wrapped around her, the way he sucked on her fingers, whispered filth into her ear. It was Malfoy she thought about every time Garrison turned her down cold, every time she went to bed frustrated and alone, her hand between her legs. It was Malfoy she whined and panted and screamed for when she made herself come, wishing that somehow he would just…appear, that he’d feel how much she wanted him and somehow it would be enough to bring them back together, if only for a night.

So she could bring him in for questioning…of course.

But she knew she meant nothing to him, just another in a list of female conquests as he raced around the world screwing everything that moved. He’d fucked her silly then stroked her hair and back until she fell asleep in his arms and without a moment’s hesitation left her there handcuffed and humiliated, to be found by three members of the Order who could barely contain their laughter when they heard the story. All except Garrison who hadn’t found it funny at all.

“Well wherever we go, wherever the intel leads us, you’re not going off on your own like last time,” he said, signaling to the server for their check. “We don’t want him getting…the upper hand again.”

“I had him,” she growled. “I had him secured for six hours. You were late.”

The air crackled between them and she felt that same tension, that anger and lust…primed for a fight that could end one of two ways. All she wanted was for Garrison to snap back at her, call her a whore, do something so she could see his passion. Instead he simply shook his head and stood, offering her his hand.

“I’m sorry. You're right. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you were under a lot of pressure.”

She stood and looped her hand through his crooked elbow, liking how much taller he was than her, broad shouldered and well dressed. He was handsome, distinguished. They turned heads as he walked her back to her room in silence.

“I’ll come for you in the morning, Hermione,” he said as she unlocked the door, pushing it open a few inches and lingering in the darkness.

“Listen, Garrison…” she started, and before she could continue he leaned in and kissed her. He held her by the shoulders, his lips pressed against her open mouth for only a few seconds before he pulled away, his cheeks red, his eyes dark. She was sure he was…trembling. She smiled and pulled at his lapels, kissing him again, teasing him with the tip of her tongue. “Why don’t you come inside,” she whispered, “then you won’t have to come for me in the morning. You’ll already be here.”

He pulled back and shook his head, gathering himself.

“I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t,” he said, with harsh finality. “I know how you feel…I feel it…” he hesitated, looking beyond her in to the dark hotel suite before letting go of her arms. “This is a tangled enough web.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “We need to keep this professional.”

*****

She walked into the suite and threw her handbag on the couch before kicking off her four inch pumps, her wand rolling out onto the floor. Tomorrow she’d go back to wearing jeans and trainers, her attempt to seduce Garrison officially over. Not only because he’d very definitively rejected her out in the hallway but because when he’d kissed her, even when she’d taken the lead and kissed him back…she’d felt nothing. There was no tingle in her spine, no bubbling heat through her blood. All this time she’d been imagining that he hid some sort of dark, passionate, sexual fire beneath his conservative exterior, but now she knew that it was just wishful thinking…looking for something she wouldn’t find in anyone else.

She was suddenly tired, in every sense of the word, and shuffled into the adjoining bedroom, slipping the straps of her dress off her shoulders and letting it fall in a puddle on the carpet, not bothering to rehang it. With a heavy sigh she slipped beneath the covers and pulled the extra pillow between her arms, resting her cheek on it, pretending she was sleeping against his chest.

*****

Draco stood in the doorway of her bedroom and watched her sleep, the ocean breeze from the open window ruffling through her hair. She twisted and flipped onto her back, the white blanket tangling around her bare leg, her breast exposed; she was sleeping nude. He reached down to adjust himself, trying to stay calm. He wasn’t going to fuck her here. It was far too risky. After a few minutes he watched her leg muscles jerk, a sign that she was in a deep sleep, her mouth open, eyes fluttering under the lids. He walked over and crouched next to the bed, pulling the cuffs from his pocket, his wand tucked into the waistband of his pants. She smelled the same, the same shampoo, the same sweat, her lips stained dark from red wine. He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder and she whimpered, shifting position.

Clicking one of the silver shackles around his own arm, he wrapped the other end of the cold metal around her right wrist, ratcheting the cuff tight. Her eyes opened at the sound.

“Surprise Granger!” He whispered with a wide smile. Before she could even register what was happening he pulled her naked body up against his and gripped his wand while burying his nose in her hair, breathing deep. “This time, you’re coming with me.”

 

 


	2. Negotiations

As soon as they got their footing at the house in Paia, Hermione reached up with her free hand and slapped him hard across the face.

“Forcible Side Along Apparition is a crime, Malfoy. It’s like you’re just begging to be arrested again.” 

He only smiled, having no reaction to the red mark on his cheek blooming into a handprint. She stood there with her hand on her hip waiting for him to say something, her chin jutted out, completely unfazed by her nudity. Or maybe she forgot. Whichever it was he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Why would you scare me like that? And how did you find me? What are you doing? Where are we?”

When she finally stopped talking to breathe he jerked back on his cuffed wrist, pulled her in against him and kissed her, tasting the wine and chocolate he’d watched her eating earlier. Her mouth opened instantly, their tongues battling as he walked backwards, pulling her down onto the bed, his hand firm on the back of her neck. 

“Did you miss me, love?” He asked, flipping her onto her back.

She pushed at his chest having regained her senses, although the flush on her face and chest gave her arousal away. There was no question that she wanted him; he just had to get past this little fit first.

“Miss you? I’ve been looking for you for weeks.”

“And I’ve been right behind you the whole time, kitten,” he said, nuzzling her neck, closing a hand over her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple. He nudged his thigh between her legs, spreading them open and she did her best to squirm away from him again.

“Get off of me. What are you talking about? How did you know I was at the Four Seasons? Where are we now?”

“Jesus Christ you’ve got a mouth on you,” he said, pulling himself off of her and yanking her up to her feet. She stumbled forward into his chest and huffed in frustration.

“Take these cuffs off,” she said, shaking her hand in his face.

He turned on her then, backing her up and pressing against her, his eyes glittering sliver in the dark, slamming her cuffed wrist to the wall beside her head and pinning it there.

“I recall asking you for the same mercy darling, and you refused. Turnabout is fair play. But don’t worry, I promise you’ll get the same happy ending.” He lowered their wrists and brought her hand to the length of stiff muscle beneath his black pants. She tried to pull away but he held fast, grinning at her helplessness.

“How did you find me?” she asked again, desperate to change the subject, desperate to stop thinking about his dick, how perfect it had felt inside her, how he’d successfully screwed her into a limp, whimpering mess.

Without an explanation he turned and tugged her along behind him, walking to the bathroom and flicking on the light. She blinked and squinted in the bright, white tile room, adjusting to the sudden change. The glaring light and floor to ceiling mirror that ran the length of one wall made her suddenly painfully aware of her nudity while he was still fully dressed.

“Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “You look beautiful like that.”

She was speechless. They’d sparred and fought and teased and fucked and he’d told her he’d wanted her, but he’d never paid her a compliment like that, straightforward and sincere, not a hint of sarcasm. Finally seeing him in the light she realized he was wearing a black suit, the same cut, the same style, the same black tie as the man she'd seen at the restauarant. Disillusionment.

Standing behind her he turned her to face the mirror and tipped her head to the side, brushing her hair away from her neck.

“Draco, answer my question,” she said, glaring at him in her reflection.

“I’m trying to, chatterbox,” he said, laying a trail of kisses along the side of her neck. She watched his lips against her skin, his white blond hair brushing her shoulder, his strong hands holding her still. “Look.”

He turned her head and pointed his wand at the back of her neck, right at the hairline on the soft skin behind her ear. She felt a bit of warmth and suddenly a heavily scrolled, glowing M appeared, no bigger than a Galleon coin, the Malfoy Seal. When he pulled his wand away it disappeared. 

“A tracking glamour,” he said, kissing her neck again, his hands roaming to her breasts then down her stomach, holding her back against his hips. “You really have to start using magic again Granger or your _Order_ is dead in the water.”

“My wand…” she said quietly, tearing her eyes away from his fingers splayed over her skin, his chin resting on her shoulder watching her face in the mirror, the wide-eyed realization of her predicament.

“Is back in Wailea. What a shame. I have to say Hermione, you’re a beautiful woman, the best fuck I’ve had in years, a brilliant witch…” he pulled at her chin so he could look her in the eye, tracing his thumb over her lips. “But you are truly a shit bounty hunter.” 

He laughed out loud and she kicked him in the shin with her heel, satisfied to the core at his yelp of pain. She lunged away from him and tugged at the cuff on her wrist with her free hand but he easily stopped her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and holding her tight.

“You’ve been so lonely since I left you there,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve watched you every minute. Going out alone, home to your flat at nine o’clock, walking the streets by yourself on the weekend. You’ve tried so valiantly to get Garrison into your bed and he’s such a crusty old fool he doesn’t know what he’s missing when he turns you down, not that I get what you see in him anyway.”

His voice was low and soothing and he could feel her softening, leaning back against him. Her skin was hot beneath his touch, her breathing slow.

“Let’s not waste time arguing about who’s an asshole or a criminal or who hates who more.” He kissed the bone at the top of her spine. “Why don’t you…for once, let someone else be in control? You know that’s what I want from you, and I guarantee you’d like it. Admit it love, wouldn’t you like one more night to think about when you’re tickling your twat at home?” 

She wriggled in his grip then, embarrassed at how he knew exactly what to say to her, embarrassed how just his words had made her hot, warm and wet and aching for him.

“Yes,” she finally said, closing her eyes, hanging her head in defeat. “I would.” 

“And maybe when I’m done with you, I can give you what you really want.”

“You’ll come back to London? To the Order?”

“Fuck no,” he said, laughing out loud. “But I can give you the information you need and then go back to blissful anonymity.” 

She was quiet then, waiting for him to make another move, to touch her again, kiss her again. Instead he pushed her gently against the wall, face first, kissing his way down her back, her rippling spine, the creamy cheeks of her ass. He paused with his hands on her thighs, resting his cheek on the small of her back.

“Do you want me to go on?” He asked, rubbing his thumbs over her skin. “Tell me to keep going.”

“K-keep going,” she said, grateful for the cool white tile against her cheek, the wall to hold her up. “Please."

As soon as the word left her lips he stood and walked from the bathroom, pulling her behind him like a dog on a leash, and she willingly followed, wondering when he was going to undress, when she’d get to touch him, kiss him back.

“I’m going to give you a rule. One rule starting now.”

Sitting her down on the bed he pulled key to the handcuffs out of his pocket and held it up in front of her face.

“I’m running this show tonight baby,” he said quietly, looking down into her glittering brown eyes, nearly undone by the anticipation, the expectation on her face. “And starting now you’re not to say a word. You can moan and groan, scream every time I make you come, but I don’t want to hear a single intelligible syllable unless I say so. Do you agree to it?”

She took a deep breath, watching him twirl the silver key in his hand, flipping it between his fingers, smiling down at her. She raised an eyebrow and then her cuffed wrist. 

“Yes, love, if you say yes I’ll uncuff you. For now.”

Wasn’t this what she was asking for only the night before? Hadn't she been wishing that he would appear out of nowhere and give her those feelings back? AND he was going to help her past the wards at the Manor? The only catch being she had to give in, give up. She had to let him control her, do what he wanted without argument…her favorite pastime, particularly in dealing with him.

For a moment she felt filthy, like the lowest, dirtiest creature on earth, fucking a man who’d tortured her for years, insulted and offended her, harassed and belittled her without a hint of remorse. She imagined what Harry and Ron would say, disgust on their face when finding out she’d traded her body for information. Twice. _“We’d expect this from someone like Parkinson, but not you.”_   And wasn’t sex supposed to mean something? Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of feeling behind it? Connection? It was clear that Draco thought she was something less than him. Or at least he used to. He did say she was beautiful...and brilliant. She really didn’t know what sort of man he was now, only that he lived in relative isolation far away from his family, his country…doing anything in his power to keep from going home. And yet he'd followed her around London, risking detection, arrest, or even worse fates. 

“You’re thinking too much, Granger. I see the wheels turning behind your eyes. Just nod your head and I’ll give you everything you want. You can stop thinking for hours. Blissful fucking oblivion.” He paused then and she thought she saw his crooked cocky smile falter, his confidence wane like a cloud passing in front of the sun, there and gone. It was just for a moment and she wanted to ask him about it but bit her tongue. “And tomorrow I’ll be gone again, and you can go home and save the world.”

He reached out and ran the back of his hand over her cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear just like Garrison had done only an hour before. And yet when Draco did it she felt fire in her blood, the nerves beneath her skin coming to life at his touch.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” he said. “Not for a minute. So do you agree to my terms?”

The idea of being under his control was suddenly exhilarating, the anticipation, the freedom that came with not knowing what he would do, just clearing her mind and waiting for his touch. An image flashed in her mind of kneeling at his feet while he stroked her hair and her whole body shivered. She let out the breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding and turned her face to kiss the back of his hand. Still he didn’t move, so to make her decision clearer, Hermione looked him right in the eye and nodded yes.


	3. The Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy. This story got a little out of control so it will have more than three chapters. Not too many more but whew.
> 
> Just a friendly reminder readers...this is labeled explicit smut and D/s. If that's not your cup of tea or you're looking for "serious literature" maybe you don't need to keep reading. 
> 
> Thanks everyone for all the kind comments both here and elsewhere. You make my day :)

Just seeing her nodding, so serene and so naked and so. blissfully. silent. was enough to get his heart racing. In truth he hadn’t planned much beyond bringing her to the cottage, but now that she’d agreed to let him do whatever he wanted, now that she was his quiet little kitten, he couldn’t stop the ideas from coming.

“I’m going to make it easy on you this time, Granger. If I do anything you don’t like, if anything goes too far or hurts or…” he put a finger under her chin to assure she was listening. “If I call you a name you don’t like, just say stop. That’s the only word you’re allowed. Nod if you understand.”

She did, but he saw that her face had clouded over a bit, her anticipation, her eagerness had faded and he knew what she was afraid of.

“I won’t call you that,” he said quietly, running a hand through her hair. “I promise.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his and she gave him a small, grateful smile. She held up her wrist and he nodded, leaning down to unlock the cuffs, separating them once again. While he was bent down he felt her shift, her breath on his cheek and he smiled. Tucking the cuffs in his pocket he turned his face to hers and she closed her eyes, leaning in to kiss him, but he pulled away just in time and laughed at how she chased his lips, her eyes opening, her mouth turning down into a pout. He stroked her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lips.

“Do you want a kiss, little girl?” he purred, teasing her as he whispered his lips over her jaw, her eyebrow, her temple. “You want me to kiss you?”

She nodded, reaching both of her free hands up to hold his face, to pull him in, but he only chuckled, holding tight to both her wrists.

“You shouldn’t give yourself away so easily, princess. Now I know what to withhold from you, what to make you beg for. I'll tell you what; I promise you’ll get a kiss from me, girl…but you’ll have to earn it.”

Her mouth fell open, a little squeaking sound of disappointment escaping from the back of her throat and he shot her a look, nearly begging her to break her rule so soon. One word and he would smack her ass until she couldn’t sit. She took the hint and moved back, folding her hands in her lap. Clucking his tongue he immediately placed her hands at her sides, spreading her thighs open, running is fingertips over the warm skin, coming dangerously close to, but not touching the heat between her legs. It was a punishment for himself really. All he wanted was to bury his tongue inside her, hear her scream his name…but making her wait was almost as delicious.

“Stay just like that. You don’t close your legs to me, not ever.”

As he stood and loosened the black tie around his neck an idea came to him and he smiled to himself.

“All that chasing you around the island tired me out, princess.” he said dramatically. “I don’t know if I have the energy for any of this really.”

She glared at him, her eyes sparking and he was honestly surprised she didn’t kick him in the balls for even suggesting it.

“Why don’t you help me out and undress me, love?”

For a moment she didn’t move, chewing on her bottom lip. Just like before he could see her thinking, weighing her options, fighting with what she wanted. She could opt out of the game, she could tell him to stop and he would absolutely honor her request, but then it would all be over. She’d never find out what he intended to do for her, she wouldn't get the information she needed.

And of course she’d never get her kiss.

He didn’t move, didn’t implore her to hurry, didn’t threaten her for stalling; only stood in front of her with his hands in his pockets, rolling his neck, cracking it to one side, biding his time. He had all night.

She huffed out a sigh of frustration and stood, stepping closer, reaching up to undo his tie. He watched her work, his mouth dry, his heart pounding, as she slipped his jacket down over his arms, laying it neatly on the bed behind her. She folded the tie and set it on the nightstand, returning to his black shirt, her slim fingers slipping over the buttons, her hands on his chest, smoothing over his skin before pulling it free from his trousers.

“Good girl,” he whispered, although his voice barely made a sound, his throat was so tight, his lungs empty.

Before loosening his belt, she surprised him, running her hands over his chest and shoulders, dragging her fingernails down to his belly, pressing gentle kisses to his sternum, his stomach, dipping her tongue into his navel with her hands digging into his back. She even ran her fingertips over the mark on his arm, now significantly altered, but still garish black and rough on his skin. If she kept it up he’d come in his pants and the whole exercise would be wasted. So he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her back to standing, looking her in the eye.

“You’ll get that soon enough, witch,” he hissed in her ear. “I’m going to fucking choke you with it, princess. Right now, just finish your job.” 

He let go of her hair and she moved her shaking fingers to his belt, undoing the buckle and pulling the thick leather free with a hot swish. Taking the belt from her hands he looped it loosely around her neck, the tails dangling between her breasts. For a moment he teased her, plucking and twisting her nipples until she gasped, bracing herself against him. He kissed the crown of her head and pushed her back, not letting her out of her task. Still she insisted on rebelling at every turn, palming the length of his cock through the fabric of his pants, stroking it while smiling at him, that crooked, lopsided smile that made him crazy.

“If you want me to punish you, just give me a sign, but I didn’t tell you to do that yet.”

She nodded, lowered her eyes and went to her knees, untying the laces on his heavy black leather shoes.

“Careful there kitten, those probably cost more than your flat.”

When she looked up at him with tight lips and a tense jaw he only winked at her, letting her know he was teasing her, having fun with her inability to bite back. He was almost regretting giving her the rule, except for the fact that he was harder than he’d been in months, seeing Granger kneeling in front of him, worshipping him just like he'd imagined while he'd jacked himself off in school. The difference was that now, even playing the role of a servant, a slave, she looked strong, and powerful. She was choosing to serve him, with a smile on her face and somehow made it even sexier. Her hands moved to his fly and she calmly slid the trousers down his legs, pulling them from his feet and folding them, laying them over the jacket. 

Taking a minute to retain his composure, Draco pet her on the top of her head and helped her back up, setting her on the edge of the bed again. She brought her knees together and he frowned at her.

“What did I just tell you?” He spread her legs, a bit rougher this time, his fingers digging into the skin above her knees. Crouching down between her thighs he could see the flush on her chest, her cheeks. He could smell her arousal. She was wet for him. It was working. He made a show of arranging her hair, sweeping it all behind her shoulders, brushing and tucking it behind her ears, posing his little doll before he stood up. “You sit here and wait for me. I’m going to jump in the shower. Don’t. Move. From this spot. Do you hear me?”

He wagged his finger in her face and then pulled at her bottom lip, touching the wet, seashell pink on the inside. She nodded.

“Suck,” he said, holding two fingers to her lips. "Show me what you'll do to my cock. It’ll give me something to think about while I’m wanking in the shower.”

Without a second’s hesitation she closed her warm lips around his fingers, her tongue laving over the length of them, her eyes locked on his as she bobbed her head back and forth, inching forward, her legs wrapped around his, her breasts brushing against his stomach. 

“You really are a filthy, fucking little slut,” he said. She flinched at the word but didn’t stop and so he pulled his hand from her mouth and held her face by the jaw. “I love it,” he reassured her, turning his back and walking back to the bathroom.

 

 

 

For a few minutes, she did just what he asked, if only to catch her breath, to bring herself back to earth from the lightheaded, raging, blood boiling horniness that undressing him had caused. She used to look down on women who were willing to be degraded, humiliated, ordered around. She used to think that submission was so far below her. But there was something in the way Draco did it, the words he chose, the soft touches, the assurances he gave, the boundaries set in place, it made her feel like she could let go, close her eyes and jump into just...feeling.

She could be a filthy fucking little slut.

Just once.

They had been so…busy and…distracted…the last time they were together that she’d barely noticed the changes to his mark. Of course it was still there, black and menacing, crawling up his arm, but there were also thick, flesh colored scars sliced through it, a series of four parallel lines, cuts, that disrupted the flow, broke it into five little crooked pieces as the scars had healed in jagged, ruched lines. Naturally she couldn’t ask him about it, and when she’d run her fingers over the length of the serpent she could feel him twitch, flinch almost, not wanting her too close. So she’d let it go. He’d made huge and painful sacrifices to stay in hiding and he obviously had no intentions of telling her why.

Behind her she heard the water turn on, the glass door of the shower squeak open and shut. She closed her eyes and imagined him naked under the hot water, his hair slicked back from his face, his cock in his hand, thinking of her. He hadn't said as much but she was fairly sure that getting herself off was not permitted, so instead she waited a few more minutes and stood up, taking a look around the spacious bedroom. 

It was flooded with moonlight reflected off the ocean that she could hear crashing over the beach. She'd only seen two rooms but already she could tell that it was a much smaller, more modest house than she’d ever expect to find Draco in, sparsely decorated with plain furniture and thickly woven rugs made of seagrass. There were postcards and pictures, even a few drawings stuck to the wall across from the bed in a collage, even a muggle photo of Draco with a surfboard, smiling at the camera, flashing the shaka. She had to laugh out loud. If she told Harry that Draco was learning to surf and hang with the beach bums on Maui he'd have her committed. On the dresser were two wizard photographs: Draco and his Mother at some Ministry event, dressed to the nines, and a picture of Draco in his Quidditch Robes with the rest of the Slytherin team fifth year, laughing and making obscene gestures on a constant loop. She smiled and ran her hands over the light colored wood of the vanity catching her reflection in the mirror, as well as that of the king sized bed behind her. Nothing in else in the room gave a hint as to what he was doing in Hawaii, why he was running, why he couldn’t go home. His clothes were neatly folded in drawers, his books organized alphabetically on a shelf beside the bed, three quills and a pot of ink on the bedside table. She found a piece of parchment unfurled, laying in the seat of a chair by the window.

 

_1 bedroom flat - 9 Carthusian Street_

_Saturday Lunch – Fox and Anchor_

_Order meetings on Tuesday afternoons_

_Wailea Four Seasons – Oceanfront Prime Suite_

 

He really had been right behind her. He knew where she lived, where she worked, ate. It sent a shiver up her spine, thinking of him watching her, walking behind her, wondering how close he’d gotten, if he’d been in her flat, watching her sleep like he did at the hotel. 

“Tsk tsk, Granger. You never could just. Fucking. Listen.”

Dropping the parchment back in the chair, she whirled around on her heel and saw him standing in the doorway of the bathroom, a white towel hanging low on his hips, his wet hair slicked back, arms crossed over his chest. He was grinning at her like the cat who got the cream, knowing she’d broken a rule, and she felt her muscles clench between her legs, wondering what sort of price she’d have to pay.


	4. Release

He walked over to her and dropped his towel, the two of them standing in the moonlight that flooded through the windows, his skin almost glowing, his eyes like molten silver. She bit her bottom lip as she took in his body, his thick hard cock in his hand as he looked her over, slowly stroking himself, droplets of water still dotting his arms and chest, shining like diamonds in the shaft of light. But when she looked back to his face, he was frowning at her and it was nearly frightening. It wasn’t his usual sarcastic sneer, it wasn’t his smooth smile of seduction…it was just…disappointment.

“Get on you knees, kitten,” he growled, his hand moving a bit faster, his breath short. There was no way he’d been wanking in the shower. He couldn’t be hard again five minutes later. Could he?

She sunk down to the floor, her knees on the rough carpet, sitting back on her heels, looking up into his eyes, waiting patiently for direction.

“It makes it very…hard to trust you when you don’t do what you’re told,” he said, his eyes flashing with anger. “Or was all of this just a trick so you could snoop around my house? Look through my shit? Continue your investigation? If you don’t want me, Hermione, if you don’t want to do this, tell me and we’ll stop.” 

She shook her head vehemently. It honestly wasn’t a trick, and in fact she kicked herself for not having thought of it. The truth was much more primal, and far more embarrassing. When she’d been with him in Monte Carlo she’d felt her heart racing like it hadn’t done in years. She felt wild and uninhibited and alive. There was something about having sex with someone who was almost a stranger…someone who didn’t care what happened after, who wasn’t looking to live in her flat or take half her paycheck. He’d only wanted her body. She’d been dreaming about fucking him again for the last month, and when the opportunity presented itself, she’d barely put up a second’s hesitation. When he left her alone in the bedroom the list had just been there, right out in the open. She hadn’t even had to dig for it. She didn’t have any interest in snooping because she realized that if he said that he was going to give her the information she believed him. Draco Malfoy. She trusted him.

His frown bothered her, chilled her. She went up on her knees and covered his hand with her own, rubbing her thumb over the hot, weeping tip of his prick, pursing her lips and kissing it, looking for approval to go on. His anger faded a bit but he wouldn’t give in. He didn’t move, gave her no encouragement, only stared. She licked him, from the base of his shaft, over his fingers, swirling her tongue over the end and he finally sighed, letting his eyes close. For a minute he teased her, rubbing the head of his cock across her lips, his other hand holding her head still. 

“I don’t know if you really want it. Show me you want it.”

She leaned forward and opened her mouth wide, her hands on his thighs, nearly panting like a dog, begging for him. When he didn’t say anything she slid forward, taking him in her mouth, deep, until he rubbed against the back of her throat.

“That’s it good girl,” he growled, stroking her hair. “It’s not going to take long with a cock sucker like you.” Instead of feeling her flinch or pause or bite, his words seemed to spur her on, her tongue stroking and twisting over his shaft, cheeks hollowing as she sucked and hummed. He closed a hand around her neck, not tightly, just enough so he could feel her work. “Will you swallow it?” he asked, his words barely a breath. “Will you take all of it down this pretty throat?”

In reply she took him deeper, almost his entire length, her hand squeezing and massaging his balls, making him groan. He could feel it coming, a rolling wave of heat, the tingling in his lower back.

“Christ, girl, I think this is your specialty.”

With a final buck of his hips he came in her mouth, her lips sealed tight around him, her eyes locked on his as he felt her rippling swallow beneath his hand. Letting him fall from her mouth, Hermione looked up at him expectantly, her lips parted, swollen and pink. He could see that she was proud of herself, and he knew she was waiting for her reward.

Draco held his hand out to her and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. She was mesmerized by the color of his eyes, the milky blue white light on his skin. For a moment he just stared down at her, an inexplicable look on his face, a strange combination of want and regret. His choice to not kiss her was driving her mad. Just looking at his beautiful rosy lips, the perfect peaks of his cupid’s bow, remembering how he’d kissed her before, the power behind it, it sent a shiver through her blood. Pulling her in close he pressed his forehead to hers, his hands in her hair, massaging the back of her neck, rubbing their noses together. Her lips parted, waiting, but he only whispered,

“What a good little cock slut you are, Granger.”

She scowled at him but kept her mouth shut, knowing he was just trying to bait her. And yet there was something about the way he said these filthy, obscene words that made her hotter than she’d been in years; wanton, animal. He tipped her head down and kissed her forehead.

“I’ve waited long enough,” he said, hoisting her up over his shoulder and smacking her once on the ass. She surprised herself, giggling out loud. “I’ve got to get a taste of that pussy. I’ve been craving it for weeks. 

He threw her down onto the bed and stretched her arms above her head.

“Keep them there or I cuff them there. No sticking charms for you.”

She nodded as he hovered over her naked body, his skin still giving off heat from the shower, his lips only a breath from hers. Thinking she’d catch him off guard she darted forward to try and kiss him but he ducked out of the way, nuzzling her neck instead, biting her earlobe.

“Granger, Granger, Granger,” he muttered against her skin; and she felt goosebumps rising on her arms at the sound of her name whispered in the dark. “Don’t try to take your prize early.”

 

He slid down her body slowly, licking and kissing, sucking each of her nipples, twisting them between his teeth. She whined and writhed beneath him, aching for any kind of release, but silently begging for his tongue, something she’d regretted not sampling in Monte Carlo. He held tight to her hips and kissed her stomach, the bumps of her hipbones, rubbing his lightly stubbled cheek over the insides of her thighs. Parting her legs he settled between them, tickling at the neatly trimmed hair that hid her glistening lips.

“So pretty,” he said, holding her still when she tried to buck against his finger or mouth. “And so impatient.” He slipped one fingertip into her wetness and dragged it slowly up and down, staring at her the whole time. “Do you want my tongue pretty girl?”

She nodded eagerly and arched her back when he brushed against her clit, just once, and so lightly she may have imagined it. His breath was warm over her skin and he kissed the inside of her thigh.

“Show me where. You can use your hand. Show me where you want my tongue.” When she hesitated he reached up and pulled her arm down between her legs, sucking two of her fingers into his mouth and wetting them with his tongue. “Show me.”

She parted her two fingers into a V and opened herself up to him, sliding her fingertips down either side of her clit, amazed at how slick and warm she already was, just from his words, just from him looking at her, just because it was Draco.

He crouched down and licked her fingers, then the sensitive skin between them, his own fingers tickling up and down her thighs as he dipped his tongue deep inside her heat, his nose brushing against her clit. It was just like he remembered, the natural, bright ocean taste of her, the same as when he sucked it clean from her fingers. He liked how she pushed forward, grinding herself against his mouth, touching herself while he feasted, her legs trembling and twitching. Lifting his eyes he could see her gasping, licking her own lips, her back arched off the bed.

“Are you going to come, love?” He asked, sucking her clit deep between his lips.

She cried out, moving her hand to grab his hair, her fingers stroking the back of his neck.

“You’re going to come on my face, girl? Trap me between your legs?”

She gripped his hair tightly, whining and twitching under the long, deep licks and sucking kisses and he knew she was close. Spreading her legs further he dragged his tongue down circling the tight bud of her ass. 

“Do you remember what I promised you, Granger? The last time I was fucking you?” He licked her from top to bottom and back, circling her clit again, earning himself a groan, her legs starting to tremble. He grinned to himself. It had only been minutes and he was already getting hard again.

He pulled away for a moment and looked up at her breathless, flushed face, her expression nearly panicked that he’d not let her go over. Instead he just locked his eyes on her, slicking his finger with her juices and pressing against her ass.

“Do you remember what I said I’d take next?" 

She nodded vigorously and pushed forward, his finger slipping inside easily, another moan escaping her lips and she threw her head back, looking up at the ceiling.

“My my, I think this is something my pretty kitty has done before! Am I right? Have you been fucked in the ass before, Granger?”

Again she nodded, and he felt his cock twitching at the thought of sinking into that tight heat. By way of reward he bent down again and stroked her clit with his tongue, his finger still pumping deep, and within seconds she cried out, her legs clamping tight around his head, her hands fisting the blanket as she twisted and whined, biting her lip to keep from saying his name in the throes of her orgasm.

“Fuck it,” he said, pulling away and crawling up her body. “I can’t wait any longer.”

He kissed her hard, his lips warm and slick, his tongue carrying her taste. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her chest, their damp skin pressed together at every point, his hard length trapped against her thigh. She almost forgot to breathe, being so grateful that he’d finally given her his mouth, but he pulled away, smoothing her hair back from her face, kissing her cheeks and her eyelids, the line of her jaw.

“I need to be inside you,” he said, rolling his hips against her. “I’ve been wishing for it since the minute I left you.”

She captured his lips again, slipping her tongue over his, clinging to him as if his kiss gave her life. She was still sensitive, still coming down from her first climax when he sunk into her, pushing as deep as he could go, and she winced for a moment, her body adjusting again to his size.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked, and she was taken aback by the quiet sincerity in his question, the way he searched her expression for clues. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

She shook her head and pushed back against him, urging him on. The stretch, the fullness, feeling the thick length of him buried inside her was almost enough to set her off again…it just took a minute to get used to. He moved slowly, his eyes fluttering closed as he pulled out completely before sliding in again, his breath hissing out between his bared teeth. It turned her on even more to watch his face: the vulnerability in his pleasure, how his usually pale cheeks flushed pink, his usually impeccable hair hanging in front of his eyes, his usually apathetic, bored face twisted into a furrowed brow of concentration, his mouth open as his tongue flicked out over his bottom lip. 

When he started thrusting faster she wanted to kiss him again, to be connected to him when he came, but she wasn’t sure it was allowed. But then he pulled out of her completely, pushing himself up on his elbows to catch his breath. His hand snaked back between her legs, spreading her wetness down to her ass, opening her further with two fingers that slid and twisted as his thumb rubbed over her clit. 

“Are you ready?” He asked, sitting back on his heels, stroking his cock with his other hand. “You got me nice and wet and I’ll be able to slide right inside.”

In answer, Hermione spread her legs wider, nodding her head.

He was frightened by the way she cried out until she reached down to touch herself, purring and rubbing with every inch he pushed forward, her walls gripping him tight.

“Fuck girl, I’m not going to last,” he said, beginning his rhythm. His body immediately started to tighten, the warmth rippling through his blood again. She clawed at his back, pulling him down to kiss her. “Say my name, I want you to say my name when you come. Tell me you want me. Even if it isn’t true. Just say it.”

“Draco….” She breathed, “Draco!” Her body jerked and twitched and she stiffened beneath him. “Come inside me. Please, Draco.”

He closed his mouth over hers and pushed in, one more deep thrust before he went blind with pleasure, seeing sparks and white lightning, his breath caught in his throat as he emptied inside her.

“Fuck yes, Draco. Thank you,” she said, pulling back and smiling.

It was the sweetest, realest smile he’d ever seen, a sleepy contented smile. He’d made her happy. He’d satisfied her. And she wasn’t bitter or spiteful enough to keep that knowledge from him like he might have done. She just couldn’t. He stroked her hair and kissed her again.

 

 

“I can talk now?” She asked.

“Yes, you can talk now,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Unless you were _hoping_ to get spanked, then I can certainly help out.”

She slapped his back, sighing out loud. He pulled out of her and rolled off to the side, still waiting for his universe to right itself, his heart rate to slow, his breathing to even out. He was lightheaded and starving and exhausted.

“That was good,” she said. “We certainly…work well together, for being deadly enemies.”

“It’s just sex, Granger. I’ve never been a big fan of assigning deep, meaningful feelings to it. I don’t feel those things anyway.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she said, laughing. “You try so hard to be the dark, mysterious Draco, cold as ice, and all of us know it isn’t true. Even Harry.”

They were silent for a while, Hermione on her back, staring at the ceiling fan that looked like an arrangement of palm leaves, Draco on his side watching her think.

“We always fought because you had me on the defensive, making me feel like I was…dirty,” she continued, fiddling with the edge of the pillowcase. “I never really _hated_ you, Draco.”

“Look at what a good liar you’ve become!” He said, giving her a wink. “You’d make Slytherin proud."

“Draco…”

“I’ll give you the information about the wards in the morning,” he said, pulling the sheet up to cover them both. “Just get some sleep. You can’t go anywhere without your wand anyway, kitten.” 

“You can come home, Draco,” she said, still staring at the ceiling. “The only reason the Order wants you back is for information. If you help us I can make sure you stay out of Azkaban. You know I’ll speak up for you.”

“Azkaban?” He said, laughing. “You think I’m afraid of Azkaban? If I show my face back in London, if I breathe anywhere near Wiltshire I’m a dead man, Hermione. Why do you think I’m running all over the world? Why do you think I nearly cut my arm to the bone to fuck up this mark? It’s so they can’t find me. I already gave the Order and the Ministry and Jolly Old England all the information I have. I sent my fucking father to prison! I sold them all out to save my own skin. I rejected everything they taught me from the minute I could walk, training me up to be some…anti-Harry. You think they’re going to let me just come home?”

“Draco…”

“I’ll give you the key to the wards in the morning, but I’m not going back to London,” he said, rolling over on his side to face away from her even though he’d looked forward to holding her against his chest. “Please don’t ask me again.”


	5. Instructions and Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End of Part 2 - and so we say goodbye to Hawaii. Where will they meet next?

She woke up alone, a cool breeze blowing over her bare skin. The room was bright with sun, an almost painfully blue sky visible through the open windows.

“Draco?”

She pulled herself out of bed, still deliciously sore from the previous night’s activities, stretching and raking a hand through her hair. They'd gotten a bit of sleep but then he’d woken her up in the dark, having crawled under the covers and between her legs, teasing her with soft, slow licks, tickling the insides of her thighs with his fingertips.

“I couldn’t sleep so I didn’t think it was fair that you should,” he murmured when she woke with a gasp, his tongue swirling around her clit, sending white waves of pleasure up her spine. “The sun will be up in two hours and our night will be over,” he said, slithering up to kiss her mouth, his dick hard against her belly, the taste of her on his tongue. “So I wanted to get one more good shag in before you go.”

She smiled now, remembering how he’d quickly sunk into her, smothering her with kisses as he thrust between her legs, drawing out each stroke with agonizing slowness. He pressed against her as she writhed, rolling her hips into his, barely letting her catch a breath before his tongue twisted with hers again, his hair hanging in front of his glittering eyes, his mouth falling open in a silent cry as he came. His whole body was stiff and trembling, his muscles twitching beneath her hands. She loved watching him climax, how feral and vulnerable and sincere he looked.

Digging through his dresser she found an old, stretched and faded pink tank top. Pink. It just barely covered her hips but it was enough for walking around the quiet house. He was laying in the canvas hammock with a mug of tea and a cigarette dangling between his lips, his eyes squinting in the sun.

“Morning Granger,” he drawled, his lips curling into a smile. A conquering kind of smile, like he’d won something. “You look good in my clothes.”

“I'll be honest with you, I didn’t think I’d live to see the day Draco Malfoy wore pink.”

“It’s salmon you uncultured swot,” he said, flicking the spent cigarette off into the sand. “Come here, kitten.” He crooked one long finger in her direction, luring her towards him. “There’s room for two and I haven’t finished my tea.”

She climbed in to the hammock and it swung back and forth as she stretched out on his chest, her leg hooked around his.

“I see now why you come here,” she said, listening to a little chorus of birds in the bushes behind them. “It’s peaceful.”

He nodded, his fingers playing absentmindedly over her skin, a completely different Malfoy than she’d ever encountered.

“Well it’s not all bars and brothels,” he said, sipping his tea. “Sometimes even a sex maniac needs peace and quiet."

Hermione winced as he brought up the names she’d called him when they'd first met, the assumptions she’d made about him in Monaco.

“Do you want to know why I go to The Succubus, why I take a different girl home every night and play these fucking games?”

“Draco, I’m sorry I said…”

“Its because when I’m with someone who doesn’t know me, who doesn’t care who I was, or what I did, I can sort of feel normal again. When I’m playing around, high and drunk and fucking some stranger for six hours, that’s six hours that I’m not thinking of how many of my friends have died, how I sent Lucius to prison, how my mother doesn’t even know where I am, probably thinks I’m dead...”

Hermione propped herself up on her elbow, struck by the sadness in his eyes, homesickness, loneliness. He smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Admit it Granger, it felt good to stop thinking about this never-ending war, just for a little while. No one on the planet fucks like you and I, do they? And it felt good to do something for you, something that made you feel good, something selfish and reckless,” he leaned in and put a wet kiss on her throat, “and unbelievably fucking hot.” 

“It did,” she said. “But you shouldn’t have to live in lonely, abject misery all of the other times. If you came home I could…”

“I’ll flip you right out of this hammock and you can walk back to the hotel. I told you not to ask me again.”

She sighed and flopped onto her back, the hammock swinging violently back and forth from their tussle and for a moment he regretted interrupting her. If he came home she could…what? Fix everything? Rebuild his reputation? Come over and blow him every Tuesday so he wasn’t so lonely? And besides, what did he want from her anyway? This was Hermione Granger they were talking about. The Swot, The Mudblood, The Goody Goody War Hero.

And the idea of leaving her in Wailea for good nearly broke his heart.

 ****

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said. “Can I borrow this shirt when we go? There’s something weird about apparating naked.”

“Prude,” he said, tumbling out of the hammock. “Sure, take it. You look good in pink.”

“It’s salmon,” she said, throwing a smile over her shoulder, dramatically swinging her hips and she sauntered back into the house. 

It shouldn’t have surprised her that he would slip into the hot shower behind her, but she jumped anyway when he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her against his chest. She was slippery with soap and incredibly warm and soft, her hair wet and wavy down her back. He kissed her neck on the spot where he’d placed the tracking glamour. 

“Will you be in trouble with Garrison?” He muttered against her skin, licking at the droplets of water and drinking in the smell of her, memorizing it. “Weren’t you two supposed to be looking for some handsome renegade this morning?”

She turned in his arms to face him, her wet hands on his unshaven cheeks, scruffy with a day or two of growth. He kissed her smiling lips with enough force to push her against the white tile wall.

“If you give me the information we need and we take out the stronghold in Wiltshire, I don’t know that he’ll mind.”

He kissed her again, harder, deeper this time, his hand sliding down to pull her thigh up, wrapping her leg over his hip as he bucked up against her, nudging the hard head of his cock between her legs.

“Do me a favor when you go, love,” he said, thrusting up into her silky warm core, the sudden intrusion causing her to gasp, her fingers digging into his back. “Burn the whole thing down.”

 ****

It was nearly noon when they emerged from the bathroom, Draco strutting around the cottage naked, looking for parchment and quill and some old, leather bound book. Sitting down to write, she noticed that his face was calm, relaxed and contented. It was something she’d never seen on him – being comfortable in his own skin, his defenses down. The softness looked good on him.

While he wrote out incantations and instructions for breaking into a weak spot on the Manor grounds near the guesthouse (a hidden entrance he’d warded and shrouded in case he ever needed to sneak back home undetected) she combed through her hair with her fingers, laying back on the rumpled bed sheets with her own tea and a box of biscuits she found in the kitchen.

Why was she so desperate to have him come home anyway? So he could torture her with offensive nicknames and rude comments about her appearance? So he could flaunt his riches and blood status and make her feel small and filthy and unworthy? Looking at him now though, slipping into a pair of linen pants and a white t-shirt, she realized that she was still seeing him as fourteen year old Draco, before he’d suffered all of the slings and arrows that she had, that Harry and Ron and Neville and all of them had, watching friends and family die in front of them, the weight of the world on their shoulders for years on end. She had changed dramatically in the past five years. It was clear that Draco had as well. And there was something about the new Draco that she wanted to explore. She wanted to do more than just sleep with him, more than just be his wizard booty call. It wasn’t like she wanted to get married or anything.

But the thought of him taking her back to Wailea and leaving her for good nearly broke her heart. 

****

“Are you ready?” He asked, standing in front her. She’d been in a trance, staring out the window just thinking, relishing the quiet of the beach.

“I…yes…I guess so,” she said, standing up beside him. She couldn’t help but laugh at his tousled hair and green flip flops. Draco Malfoy the beach bum. “Can I have the instructions for the wards?”

“When we get to your hotel. I have some conditions first, princess.”

He kissed her forehead and pulled her in against him, the two of them twisting into the ether with a loud, echoing crack.

**** 

As soon as they got to the hotel, Hermione scrambled for her wand although she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t to protect her from Draco…it was just…she needed to have it. The cellphone she was using blinked with a dozen unanswered messages from the team, six from Garrison alone.

“So many gentleman callers,” Draco said, wandering through the suite, digging through her suitcase, looking through the minibar, smelling her towels like they had all day.

“Draco!” She said, exasperated. “The instructions! You promised!”

“I know I know,” he said. The playful smile on his face faded a bit. “I just didn’t want this…”

“What?” She stepped closer. What didn’t he want? To leave her? To end this?  

“I want you to make me a promise before I give you these,” he said, holding out the rolled parchment. “OK?”

“What is it?”

He pulled the scroll back, arching an eyebrow.

“Promise first.”

“No, you tell me what it is first.”

They were at a standoff and she needed the info. Not only because of the war, not only because and Garrison and the team depended on her, but to convince herself that there was a reason she’d spent the night with Draco Malfoy. A good reason. A better one than the truth. 

“I want you to promise me, Granger, that if you ever find me again, if you ever track me down or see me in a restaurant or find me wandering the streets with amnesia, or half drunk in an alleyway…”

“Malfoy…”

“I want you to promise me you’ll give me one more chance. If you ever find me again I want you to promise to come with me one more time, for a weekend. No, for four days. And not just for sex…although I promise at least seventy percent fucking.”

She laughed, her cheeks red with a thousand different feelings. But if he gave her the information about Wiltshire she’d never need to look for him again. Why would she ever find him? Maybe that’s what he was doing. He was leaving it to her to come to him, to make the decision to find him.

“Why?” She asked, seeing that he was sincere, that this was something he’d thought through.

“I never really hated you either, Hermione.” He said, tucking her hair behind her ear, a habit he'd picked up because he liked feeling the soft skin of her cheek, running his fingertips over her freckles. “Promise?”

“I promise, Draco. If I ever find you again, no matter where, I’ll go with you again. For three days.”

He put the scroll in her hand and pulled out his wand.

“One last thing, love,” he said, pulling her hair back away from her neck. “I’ll play fair this time…to a degree.”

He pointed the wand at the soft patch of skin behind her ear and she felt a tingling warmth as he removed the tracking glamour, soothing the spot with a kiss. He wasn’t going to look for her. This time it was up to her.

 

“GRANGER! WAKE UP. ARE YOU IN THERE OR NOT?”

There was a sudden pounding on the door, more than one person. It was Garrison and Fordham.

“I’m…I’m here. Just...give me a second.”

She turned to Draco and he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a tender, warm kiss, lazy and soft, a kiss that wasn’t necessarily goodbye, just something to remember. 

“GRANGER, WE’VE BEEN CALLING ALL MORNING. ARE YOU OK?”

“Draco…wait.” 

“See ya later, princess,” he said, and with a wink and a crack he disappeared.


End file.
